


The Last Straw

by JerseyGirl



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Bondage, Dom Steve McGarrett, Dom/sub, Dominance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gags, Light BDSM, Love, M/M, Nipple Play, POV Danny "Danno" Williams, POV Steve McGarrett, Requited Love, Sex Toys, Sub Danny "Danno" Williams, Submissiveness, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-08 15:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JerseyGirl/pseuds/JerseyGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if watching Rachel’s and Stan’s baby being born was really and truly the last straw for Danny? What if his psyche just goes kablooey, and even Grace can’t snap him out of it? Will Steve be able to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken

**Author's Note:**

> This story starts immediately after the scene in Season 2, Episode 14 “Pu’olo” where Steve and Danny are standing at the nursery window looking at Rachel’s new baby. Definitely creates an AU after that.

**THE LAST STRAW**

Steve had never seen Danny like this. 

In spite of the fact that Danny had agreed to dinner, the man wasn’t acting like he wanted to be in the passenger seat of the Camaro. He wasn’t acting like he wanted to eat. He wasn’t saying a word. 

And Steve, well, he could understand the fucked-up-edness of the whole situation, because for about a week earlier that year, Danny had thought that little boy he’d just watched come into the world was his. Then not only is the kid _not_ his, but he loses Rachel in the bargain, although at least it meant Grace was back on the island. 

Steve remembered that for quite some time after that – up until Danny had met Gabby, actually – Danny hadn’t been acting at _all_ like his old self. They’d sniped at each other, he and his partner, and sometimes the conversations had gotten a bit…well, ugly, truth be told. They weren’t working like the well-oiled machine they’d been from the start, for a while there. 

And then he’d met Gabby, and had started acting more like his old self again. 

But after all that had happened with Rachel, Gabby notwithstanding…to have to be there with his ex-wife, in the exact same way he’d been there for Grace’s birth, for a child that belonged to another _man_? Steve didn’t know if he could’ve done it, even if Rachel _had_ called. Even if she’d _begged_ for help, Steve probably would’ve just called an ambulance for her, picked Grace up and sent Rachel on her way. Because fuck _that_ , man. 

Except the thing was, Steve knew, Danny still loved Rachel. Probably had some love in his heart for that baby, too, left over from eight whole days in which he’d thought it was his own. 

And so because he couldn’t ever say no, because he couldn’t stop loving someone who was so obviously poisonous to his very existence, Danny was suffering. That much was clear. 

“How about I just grill something at home?” Steve asked, thinking that Danny probably wasn’t up to going out in public. 

Danny’s response was the flick of a finger from the hand that rested on his left thigh and a noncommittal grunt. 

“I spoke to Grace’s nanny in the waiting room,” Steve continued. “She said Rachel agreed that she could drop Grace off at my place after Stan gets to the hospital tonight.” 

“Your place?” Danny asked and finally, some words at least…although Danny’s voice sounded…hollow. 

“Yeah, I, uh…I thought…” Steve glanced at Danny, bit his lip, waved his own hand in the air between them. “Look, Danny, I wanted to spend some time with her, and I figured if she stayed the weekend at my place we could…you know…hang out.” 

A little frown knitted Danny’s brow. He looked at his partner, but his eyes were so distant. “Just you and her, huh?” 

“No,” Steve said. “Me, her and _you_.” 

“Oh.” 

Danny looked back down at his hands in his lap and didn’t say one goddamn thing more all the way to Steve’s house. 

Or when they walked _in_ to Steve’s house. 

Not when Steve gently guided Danny out to the chairs and table on the lanai. Not when he brought Danny a Longboard. Not when he fired up the grill, asked him if seared ahi was okay. 

Not. One. Word. 

With every second that passed, Steve grew more and more worried. 

At least Danny ate. Well, mostly. He had about half the ahi and half the salad Steve had doled out to him, and managed to get half the beer down. 

“Where do you want me to sleep?” Danny asked, not looking at him as Steve started to clear the table. 

“Wherever you want,” Steve replied, and meant it…though he doubted Danny understood that at this point. 

While he was in the kitchen rinsing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, Steve wondered what in the hell to do. Maybe it would pass. Maybe Danny just needed to be depressed for the night and in the morning he’d be back to sparkling blue eyes whose corners crinkled in amusement more often than not. He’d be back to smart-aleck comments and the trashing of Steve’s every move using way too many words to do it. 

He’d be back to Steve’s Danny. 

Because that’s how Steve felt about the guy. That Danny _belonged_ to him, even though Danny didn’t, for all intents and purposes. 

Steve didn’t even know if Danny swung toward men in any way, shape or form. He knew Danny was a little more touchy-feely than most guys, and expressed emotion a little more than men Steve was used to hanging out with in the Navy, but he’d never seen Danny ogle a man’s body, only women’s bodies. And Danny had never mentioned any other sexual proclivities. 

Neither had Steve, of course, so there you had it. 

And shit, there was a knock at the front door, and Steve yelled out, “Danny, can you get that?” as he put the platter he’d served the ahi from into the top rack of the dishwasher. But he received no response. So he dried his hands off on a dish towel, leaving the dishwasher open, and walked all the way through the house to the front door. When he opened it, it was to find Grace and her nanny standing there. 

“Uncle Steve, did you see _Charlie_?” Grace asked excitedly, a huge smile on her face. “Mommy let me _hold_ him and she and Stan are so _happy_!” The little girl bounded into Steve’s arms. He lifted her easily as her backpack fell to the floor, and smiled broadly. 

“Yes, I _did_ see him. He’s a nice little brother to have, isn’t he?” Steve said to Grace, then looked at the nanny. “When does Rachel want her back?” 

“I believe she said she would call Mr. Williams,” the nanny replied, then turned to walk away. “But most likely not until Sunday evening,” she added over her shoulder. 

“Okay, thanks,” Steve said, thinking to himself, _What a bitch, and she’s raising Grace?_ He set Grace down and then closed and locked the front door. 

“Where’s Danno?” 

“I, uh…I’m not sure,” Steve replied. “How ‘bout we go find him?” 

Grace nodded and slipped her hand into Steve’s. Steve relished the feel of that hand in his because it just felt like it opened up a river of trust and love that flowed effortlessly from this little girl’s body through to his, absorbing into his skin and filling him fuller than he’d ever felt. 

Well, usually it did, anyway. Right now he was too damn worried about Danny to feel much more than trepidation as he and Grace searched the entire first floor and beach to no avail. 

“I guess he’s upstairs,” Steve said. 

Grace let go of his hand and bounded up the steps calling, “Danno!” 

Steve ascended more slowly. 

When Steve reached the second floor, checked and found they weren’t in his room, he moved along to Mary’s. It was empty. Last room was his childhood room. The door was wide open and Danny was seated on the edge of the twin bed seeming completely zoned out. 

Graced turned a frightened face Steve’s way. “He won’t answer me, Uncle Steve. What’s wrong with him?” 

“Danny?” Steve said, moving forward and crouching down, which put him slightly below Danny’s eye-level. “Hey, partner,” he continued, reaching out and placing a hand on Danny’s knee. 

Danny didn’t move a muscle. Steve stared at his blank face for a moment. “Grace, did he say anything at all to you when you found him?” 

“No,” Grace said, shaking her head. “Is he hurt?” 

Steve looked at her and opened his left arm wide. She walked closer and he pulled her tightly to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him ferociously. “I think he is, Grace, but I think it’s his heart that’s hurt, not his body.” 

Grace considered this, pulled her head back and looked into Steve’s eyes. “Because Mommy had a baby with Stan?” 

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Steve replied. “Tell you what…it’s really late. I don’t have Mary’s room made up for you. Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” 

Grace looked at her father, then back at Steve. “Are you going to fix him?” 

“I’m going to try, sweetheart,” Steve said, leaning forward and placing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m really going to try. But if I fail, we’ll take him to a doctor tomorrow, okay?” 

Grace gave him a small smile. “You won’t fail, Uncle Steve. Danno says you never fail when it’s important.” 

Steve felt a lump in his throat and swallowed hard over it. He also felt his eyes welling up with tears. “He does, does he?” 

She nodded. “You can fix him. You love him, Uncle Steve.” 

“Well, so do you.” 

“Yeah, but he needs a grown-up to love, too,” she replied. “He gets lonely.” 

“Well,” Steve said, “we’ll see what we can do about that, all right? Now, you had your backpack with you. Can you go get it from the living room and get yourself ready for bed?” 

Grace nodded and headed out the bedroom door. Steve turned back to look at Danny, who was still immobile, as though an entire conversation between his daughter and his partner which included terms like ‘grown-up love’ hadn’t just happened right in front of him. 

Steve had a few ideas about what might help Danny, but some of them were things he wouldn’t do with Grace in the house – things Steve himself hadn’t done in years, but had an inkling might work with Danny. So in the interest of not traumatizing a young child, he put those aside in his mind for the moment, instead trying to remember everything he’d learned about psychology over his years in the Navy. 

If the problem here was Danny feeling despondent about his life in general, which would include not having Rachel or any wife or steady girlfriend (dates with Gabby were infrequent, and Steve wasn’t even sure whether Danny and Gabby had slept together yet), and not having the new child he had wanted so badly, then the solution was to attack the issues one at a time, by trying to figure out what was at the root of them, and then determining a strategy for handling each. 

So, Steve thought, as he got out of his crouched position and sat next to Danny on the bed…Danny loved Rachel. Rachel was with another man. Danny needed to somehow move past the love he’d lost, gone back to and lost again. He needed to see that she wasn’t good for him, that the relationship was poison. Needed to see that she belonged to someone else, had made her decision after Steve’s arrest. Someone else that she now had a new baby with, and that was all there was to it. 

But you can’t control someone’s heart. Steve knew that better than anyone, because more than a year ago, he’d realized he was in love with Danny…and no matter how he’d tried to talk himself out of it in the past three hundred and seventy-two days, he hadn’t been able to. He was _gone_ on his partner, period. Taking Catherine to his bed didn’t alleviate his feelings toward Danny at all, and when he’d finally confessed to her that he was in love with someone else (after she badgered it out of him because “I know you, Steve, and your heart’s not with me”), she’d stopped coming to his bed altogether. 

But Steve knew that taking Danny to his bed wouldn’t just wash away his love for Rachel magically. Life wasn’t all fairies and rainbows, in spite of Grace’s beliefs to the contrary (and the Disney movies to prove it). 

But…what if? What if this wasn’t as simple as Danny-loves-Rachel and Danny-can’t-get-over-Rachel? 

What if the reason Danny went back to Rachel in the aftermath of Matty’s criminal departure, was because he had desperately missed ‘grown-up love,’ as Gracie had called it, and saw no other prospects? And seeing no other prospects, was happy to pick up with her again when she offered? 

Or…what if Danny had gone back to Rachel simply because he wanted someone else but didn’t think he could have them? Someone like…like Steve? 

“Wishful thinking,” Steve whispered to himself, shaking his head. Yeah, that’d be all too easy, Danny pining away for him, sitting here like a zombie because he wanted Steve and a _family_ with Steve and had to just watch his ex-wife get what he thought he couldn’t have. Something he _used_ to have. 

“What’s wishful thinking?” asked a voice from the door. It was Grace, already in her spaghetti-strap bright teal nightgown and holding a hairbrush in her hand. 

“Nothing, honey, don’t worry about it,” Steve replied, holding out his hand. “Need help brushing your hair?” 

She approached, but kept her eyes on Danny. “Daddy likes brushing my hair. I thought maybe he would start talking and moving if…” Her voice trailed off and she looked like she was about to cry. 

Okay, that was it. Steve could not take this anymore. Why Danny was acting like he was catatonic, enough that it had his precious daughter on the verge of bawling, was something that Steve couldn’t fix in the next ten minutes. But he _could_ try to goad his partner into becoming animated enough that Grace would be able to sleep tonight rather than have nightmares because she was worried about him. 

“Tell you what,” Steve whispered conspiratorially, pulling Grace’s arm ‘til she stood in the V of his legs, “how about we start by brushing _his_ hair and see if that doesn’t work, mm?” 

Grace giggled. “He’ll hit you with the brush if you touch his hair!” 

Steve waggled his eyebrows. “I’m counting on it. At least he’d talk and move then, right?” 

She nodded, a huge smile on her face, and handed Steve the brush. She backed away about a foot – probably in case her father actually _did_ start beating the hell out of Steve – and giggled again. 

Steve _loved_ making Grace laugh. He sometimes did things he would normally _never_ do just to get a giggle out of her, and Danny always…Steve froze. Danny always gave him a _look_ when he did stupid shit for Grace’s benefit. A look like…like…maybe like…oh, shit. 

What if one of Steve’s what-ifs had been right? What if all of this was _Steve’s_ doing because Danny wanted _him_ and thought he couldn’t have him? And then seeing Rachel all happy and having a baby, and remembering Grace’s birth, just _reminded_ him of what he couldn’t have because…because maybe he was in love with _Steve_? 

“Uncle Steve? You’re not brushing his hair.” 

Steve blinked, looked at Grace. 

“What’s wrong?” the little girl asked. 

“Grace, it’s…nothing. Just…it’s nothing. Here, let me try to brush Danno’s hair.” 

Steve lifted the brush, but before he got it to Danny’s head, a hand came up and stopped the movement of the brush in its tracks. 

“Daddy!” Grace cried, and ran into her father’s arms. He held her, swayed with her a little bit, placed a kiss on her forehead and laid his cheek on hers. “Daddy, are you okay?” Grace asked. “Do you want to brush my hair?” 

“I’m okay,” Danny whispered. “Why don’t you have Uncle Steve brush your hair tonight. He liked it that one time he did it, remember?” 

“Okay,” Grace said, pulling away, then leaning in to give her father a kiss on the cheek. “You want to go to your room?” she asked Steve. 

“Sure thing. How about you strip the sheets off the bed for me? I’ll put fresh ones on, then brush your hair after you’ve brushed your teeth,” he said, remembering the couple of other times she’d stayed there when Danny had been crashing on his couch, what Danny had had her do before bed. 

“Okay!” she smiled brightly, then turned and ran out of the room. 

Steve turned to his partner, only to find tears streaming steadily down Danny’s face. “What can I do?” he asked softly, unable to help himself when his hand came up to cup the side of Danny’s face. “Tell me what to do to help you.” 

Danny shook his head and pulled away as he stood up. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do.” 

Steve stayed there for a few seconds more as Danny began unbuttoning his shirt. He felt like the situation was completely out of his control and that was unacceptable to him. He resolved that after he’d tucked Gracie into his bed, into nice, clean sheets with her hair brushed out and her teeth smelling like bubble gum toothpaste, he would stay up the entire night if he had to, to take _back_ the control. 

Whether Danny wanted him to or not. 

With that thought firmly embedded in his mind, he said, “After I put Grace to bed, I’m coming back here. I want you on this bed,” he said, pointing to the twin bed, “with nothing but your underwear on, flat on your back, and waiting for me.” 

Danny’s eyes widened. The tears stopped flowing as his breath caught. “What?” he breathed, not looking fully at Steve, but not turning away. 

“You heard me. And you’re going to do it. You’ve got thirty minutes,” Steve said in the most authoritative voice he could manage when he wasn’t really sure if this was the right thing to do. But then Danny’s shoulders slumped…not as though he was defeated, but as though he was…accepting. “Do you understand me?” Steve asked, voice notching up just a level. 

Danny nodded. “Yes. I understand.” 

“Good, and before you lay down in that bed in only your underwear, you are to take a shower and clean yourself thoroughly, every inch.” What the hell, Steve figured. Might as well see how far he could push this. Because Danny’s answer to this would tell him everything he needed to know. 

The answer, when it came, was not in words. It was in Danny’s eyes when at last he chanced a look into Steve’s. Curiosity burned in them. Trepidation. A spark of fear, and yet…acquiescence. Above it all, surrounding every other emotion playing out in those eyes and on Danny’s face, was acquiescence. 

So Steve’s initial desire, his initial thought about how to fix Danny, might’ve been right on target. 

Danny was a goddamn born submissive. He didn’t know if it went all the way into BDSM territory or not…whether Danny had ever actually practiced full-out submissiveness…but this was a man who needed a Master or Mistress…and maybe Rachel _knew_ that…maybe _she_ had been his Mistress, or at the very least, the Controller of the pair. Without her, Danny was lost. And so he kept pining away for what he needed from perhaps the only person who’d ever actually given it to him: her. 

Now maybe Steve _did_ know how to take care of this. Because if Danny felt about Steve the way Steve felt about Danny, and if Danny needed a controlling hand in his off-hours who would take care of every need he couldn’t articulate, well…Steve was the man for the job. 

He and Catherine had been equals, switching back and forth as they felt like it, whatever the mood was in the moment. They’d ventured into some toys, but Catherine hadn’t been quite as adventurous as Steve, and Steve’s only true indulgence in full BDSM domination had come in foreign countries at private homes or clubs that catered to military men who needed to blow off some steam. 

So. 

Here he was, staring into Danny’s eyes…Danny staring into his…and he saw Danny swallow hard. 

“You going to take a shower?” Steve asked, taking a step toward his partner…forcing Danny to look up to keep eye contact. 

“Yes,” Danny said, and then… _then_ he looked down. “Yes, sir,” he whispered. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that,” Steve said, confidence slowly building. 

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Danny said a little louder. 

And, mindful of the fact that Grace was just down the hall, probably with the bed stripped already and in his master bathroom brushing her teeth, Steve let it go at that. 

“Good,” Steve replied. “Thirty minutes, and back here on the bed.” 

Danny nodded, and Steve left the room. As soon as he stepped into his own room, and saw the sheets piled on the floor, he smiled. Now he was just Uncle Steve, not Sir or Master. He could switch it on and off like a light, and for that, he was glad. 

He also could tell Gracie with full confidence that while Danny might not be 100% okay by the time she was up for breakfast in the morning, he’d be a damn sight better than he was now. 

Steve would see to that, for sure. 


	2. His Partner, His Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny knows he's broken. He prays Steve can fix him. Steve...his partner...his friend. And maybe something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly (or maybe not-so-sadly), when I give Steve and Danny an inch, they take a mile. Therefore, this is now going to be three chapters, rather than the originally advertised two.

Danny washed himself quickly, but thoroughly, using the shampoo and conditioner he found in the upstairs bathroom, using the bar of soap that was in the shower’s soap dish. He could barely think, barely _function_ , and while on some level he knew this was Not Right, that he should be worrying about why he felt so out of it, he couldn’t even bring himself to _think_ about anything, let alone fret. 

All he knew was that he had to shower. Had to make himself clean, “every inch” the voice had said. It was a voice he knew, a voice that went straight through him all the time. The voice of his partner and his friend. 

The voice of the man he’d wanted for the better part of a year, when he had no right to want. 

The voice rang in his head now as he rinsed the conditioner from his hair, wanting it to be soft, wanting himself to look as presentable and touchable as he should for anyone in the situation his partner, his friend, had just put him into. “You heard me. And you’re going to do it.” 

The zing of recognition that had ping-ponged from Danny’s brain to his arms to his dick to the very tips of his toes and all around his body had nearly caused him to drop to his knees on the spot. Only it couldn’t have been Steve McGarrett saying those words to him…his partner, his friend. 

Memories of past fantasies trickled into his mind as he turned the shower off and the water spiraled down the drain. How he’d longed to not have to be in control anymore. To get back what he’d had with Rachel, where she managed everything in the home from finances to food, from sex to Grace’s care. He’d been hers to play with when she chose, and hers to toss to the curb when she chose. 

When she had left, only Matty had kept him from giving in to the desire to hurt himself, possibly in ways that he would never heal from. Danny had never been one for suicidal thoughts, but he longed for the only thing that would take away emotional pain: physical pain. 

As a teenager, Danny had learned that pinching himself hard enough to make tears come out of his eyes often alleviated the emotional pain of not being heard in amongst the racket of five kids, of which two were older sisters. The humiliation at the hands of boys growing faster and taller than him on the playground. He’d learned his limits: cutting himself he couldn’t do, burning himself with a cigarette had hurt for too long afterwards to be something he was willing to try again. 

But hitting his thigh hard enough to leave a bruise he could press into for weeks any time he needed something else to focus on; holding his breath for so long he nearly passed out, and the head-rush that followed; denying himself the right to come when he had himself so worked up he was very nearly crawling out of his _skin_ wanting to orgasm…these were things that helped him make it. 

And nobody had ever known about any of it, until Rachel. Somehow, in some way, she had seen that he was a coiled snake ready to strike, or maybe like a bomb that would explode any second, unless and until someone alleviated the pressure of just being who he was. 

After the ignominy of his failed marriage, of Rachel marrying another man mere months after, Danny’s pain had been nearly unbearable. Only in the hands of someone he trusted and loved with every cell of his being could he truly heal from what that all had done to him. And yet there was no one to help him that way. No one who even seemed like they could, except maybe his partner…his friend. 

A man who would run so far away from Danny if he knew how Danny craved being the exact opposite of what he appeared outwardly to be. Danny knew Steve had Catherine, that Steve was ‘normal,’ that he, Danny, was the screwed-up one. He’d never known anyone who wanted and needed what he did, and no one but Rachel had ever known that secret side of him. 

He had envisioned oh, so many times, Steve dressed to the hilt in combat gear, his SEAL wear. With vest, with weapons stashed everywhere, thigh holsters, _every_ thing that made him appear frightening, in control of himself and everyone under him: the Master of all he surveyed. How he yearned for the man to walk into his office, close and lock the door, shut the blinds and order him to his knees. 

Not necessarily for sex, and certainly not _only_ for sex. But to take over the reins, allowing Danny to breathe freely, allowing Danny to simply shrug his responsibilities away, even if only for seconds or minutes. Danny could handle anything thrown at him for most of his life, but watching his former Mistress, though he’d only ever called her that in his own mind, give birth to a child that was not of him, it had broken something in him. 

Broken it into pieces Danny didn’t believe could ever be put back together. 

He was a sub, he knew this much. He’d done plenty of research on the internet after Rachel had asked him if that’s what he was about two months into them dating. And he’d discovered that yes, this was what he desired, needed, and she’d given it to him. 

He wondered if Stan was also, if Rachel had moved on to a rich sub when she left cop-salary Danny behind. Or maybe he wasn’t, maybe Rachel tired of having to be in charge of everything, tired of how needy Danny was, and moved along to someone who asked for nothing more than her love. 

Danny could give love. He could give it in spades. And for about a year, he’d been giving it all to his partner…his friend. The man who, though he didn’t know it, had become Danny’s _de facto_ owner the second he’d forced him to become his partner. Not because Danny had instantly fallen in love with the man. Not because Steve had actually indicated either overtly or otherwise that he had a clue about Danny’s nature. 

But because Steve had taken _control_ , right from the start, right from the garage, actually, when he’d taken his oath with the governor over the phone and walked away with the toolbox, declaring the case of his father’s murder to be his now, rather than Danny’s. 

Danny finished toweling himself off, grabbed a comb from the counter drawer in the bathroom and slicked his wet but quickly drying hair back into its normal look. He took a moment to stare at his face in the mirror. To look at his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Quickly he searched for a toothbrush and found four still in their packages, and a new tube of toothpaste in the medicine cabinet. He brushed his teeth, scrubbing them hard, rinsing and spitting, rinsing and spitting. 

There. Now he was dry, and he was clean. 

Only he didn’t have any clean underwear, and he _really_ didn’t want to put his dirty boxers back on now that he’d gone to all the trouble of washing himself. 

Towel wrapped around his waist, he made his way across the one foot of hall that separated the bathroom door from that of Steve’s childhood bedroom. And there on the bed, was a clean pair of boxers. He picked them up. Steve had thought of everything, it seemed. 

As if Danny expected anything different. 

And so he dropped the towel, pulled the snow-white boxers on, went back and hung the towel in the bathroom, and dutifully laid down on the twin bed which was covered by a handmade quilt that Steve’s mother had made for him when he was only three. 

Danny knew so much about this man he’d secretly wanted for so long. 

But how much did _Steve_ know about _him_? 

Danny knew when he heard a quiet, “Good night, Grace. Sweet dreams,” and the snick of Steve’s bedroom door shutting, that he was about to find out. 

When Steve appeared in the bedroom doorway, Danny averted his eyes. He didn’t know what Steve thought he was doing…whether Steve even _knew_ what he was doing, or if he really understood what Danny needed…but Danny wasn’t _about_ to show belligerence in this setting. Not here. Not when Steve had given him orders to obey. He was aware that Steve stayed put in the doorway for a few seconds, then carried on in to the bathroom. 

“You can go say goodnight to Grace,” the in-control voice told him, “but then get right back into that bed and stay there while I shower.” 

Danny was equal parts turned on and relieved. Turned on because the _authority_ in Steve’s voice, the authority he was used to hearing but never hearing directed at _him_ , made him shiver. Relieved, because Steve was still acknowledging Danny’s place as Grace’s father, and allowing him to be himself…whoever that was anymore, Danny thought with disgust…even when things between the two of them were about to take a very strange turn. 

And Danny couldn’t predict what would happen. Whether Steve just wanted to berate him for losing his shit, or for helping Rachel, or for whatever other sins Danny had committed…or whether Steve had certain tendencies that – while they might seem obvious given what he did for a living and how he acted on a daily basis – Danny had never dreamed he would have, well…he just couldn’t say. 

He hoped…really and truly hoped…it was the latter. 

Because that voice, that commanding voice telling him what to do…it made him want it _all_. 

He rose, walked quietly down the hall, opened the door to Steve’s room, stole across the floor, leaned over and kissed his beautiful already-sleeping little girl on the forehead. She smelled like bubblegum toothpaste and everything that was right in the world, and yet he couldn’t make himself stop thinking that in the state of mind he was in right now, she’d be better off not being anywhere near him. 

He’d vowed the moment she was born that she would never find out what a fucked up guy her old man was. Only tonight, she’d seen part of it. She’d seen it, and Steve had soothed her resulting fear. Danny had been aware of it all, he just hadn’t been able to dig out of Not Caring Anymore long enough to say or do anything about it, about the conversation they’d had. He hadn’t actually heard _most_ of what the two had said. Because Danny knew with Steve there, he didn’t _have_ to. That Grace was in the best, most capable hands she could be in. 

Danny had only become truly cognizant of things when Steve had raised a brush to his hair. 

Danny had stopped the movement, only because he wanted it so _much_. 

How he wanted Steve to run anything through his hair…a brush, a comb…better yet, his hand. He just didn’t know how to let go of what he’d had to force himself to become after Rachel, let go of it long enough to even ask, let alone hope that Steve _would_. 

Steve would protect Grace, if this truly became what Danny found himself wishing it was going to. He would keep her safe from knowing what Danny needed, knowing how much he needed to hurt to feel alive. Take care of her when needed, even if Danny could do nothing more than stare at her for a few seconds and walk out the door. 

He knew something was Not Right. 

Knew it. 

Didn’t know what to do about it. 

Except to do whatever Steve asked him to, and pray Steve could somehow make him better. 

If anyone could, it was Steve. 

Danny believed that to the very core of his being. But _only_ if Steve really understood what Danny needed. Wanted. Couldn’t live without anymore. 

And only if Steve truly wanted to own him. Steve. His partner. His friend. And maybe, just maybe, if Danny could imagine himself being that lucky…something more. 

* * *

Steve knew it was make-it-or-break-it time. He’d done his usual three-minute shower and was toweling off with the same towel Danny had used. Marking it, marking whatever Danny had left behind on that towel, marking _Danny_ , and everything Danny touched, as _his_. 

Grace was Steve’s to protect, to care for, to love. Because she was Danny’s, and because Steve genuinely cared about her beyond compare. 

Steve drove Danny’s car and Danny _let_ him. Bitched about it, but _let_ him. 

Danny had complained about being commandeered into Five-0. 

Yet he’d stayed. 

He gave Steve shit loudly and at length about his methods, about how he lived life, about anything and everything he could. And yet he followed Steve without faltering, even when bullets were flying, even when buildings were exploding. Even if it put his own life at risk. 

He worried about Steve, when Steve didn’t contact him or was aiming to do something Danny deemed dangerous. 

The way he looked at him sometimes… 

The way he gave him shit, was always too damn loud about everything, as though being that way wasn’t so much his true personality as it was his armor, his shield. Pushing Steve away at the same time he pulled him closer. Push-pull, push-pull. It’d always been that way between them. 

He noted Danny had used a toothbrush, and smiled. He’d brushed his teeth with Grace, building the toothpaste up to a foam in his mouth and growling just to make her laugh. He’d barely gotten her tucked in before she was sound asleep as he tidied up the bathroom and set all her things out on the counter so she could find them in the morning. He left a towel on the edge of the tub, a washcloth. Put out her special detangling shampoo and conditioner where she could see it. He’d taken care of every possibility where she was concerned. 

Steve was ready. And he was going to show Danny from Moment One that he was in charge. 

He didn’t know whether things would move into sexual territory tonight. After all, there was Grace to consider. He would lock the bedroom door, but throughout everything, keep an ear out for Grace. She wasn’t prone to waking in the night, though, so as long as he kept things quiet, he didn’t anticipate being disturbed. 

Still, to be on the safe side, he would only do things which could be very easily undone should Grace happen to get up at some point before dawn. 

All he really wanted to do tonight was establish what it was Danny needed to heal. What it would take for him to truly become Danny’s Master, in every sense of the word, if Danny would have him. 

And Danny would be his: to love, hold, pet, kiss, cherish. He would take on the responsibility of another person’s psyche, and he would handle it like he would a bomb: gently, carefully, and with full understanding that one wrong move could blow them both to pieces from the inside out. 

He scooted quickly from the bathroom into his childhood bedroom, closed the door of the room and locked it. He was buck naked from head to toe, hair still a little damp. He waited for a moment, heard Danny breathing fast. So Danny was nervous. Of course he was. He didn’t know what Steve knew and truly, Steve didn’t know much – not where Danny’s needs were concerned. 

But Steve knew how to carefully take a person apart and then put them back together. He’d learned in Hong Kong. He’d practiced in Thailand. He’d perfected in Singapore. 

And he decided that when it came to this type of thing between them, he would call his partner, “Daniel.” 

He moved across the floor, eyesight adjusted, and saw that his partner was lying on the bed in only his underwear, as instructed. So he smiled, leaned down and ran his hands through Danny’s drying hair and the man honest-to-God _purred_ when he did. 

“Good,” Steve said. “You can be very good, can’t you?” 

Danny looked up at him, but quickly averted his eyes. “Yes, sir,” he whispered, arcing to try and get his head closer to where Steve’s fingers still carded through his hair. 

Steve pulled his hand away and Danny fucking _whimpered_. Christ, did Steve have his number, and he knew it. Danny wanted him. Danny _needed_ him. “Earlier, I asked you what I could do to help. You lied to me, when you told me there was nothing I could do. Didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. It was a test. 

Danny swallowed hard. “Yes, sir,” he said, so quietly that Steve barely heard him. 

“Why did you lie to me, Daniel? Are you afraid of me?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Tell me why. Speak freely. Don’t lie to me. If you lie to me, you will be punished by being left totally alone in this room all night.” 

It took a few seconds, and Danny’s chest was moving very fast as though he was having to run a marathon rather than speak words. No doubt Steve’s threat of punishment had brought terror to Danny given the state he was in now. 

“I’m afraid…” Danny’s voice trailed off. 

Steve sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbed Danny’s hands and pulled him until he was sitting upright. Then he cupped Danny’s chin in his hand and forced his head into a position where Danny could look him in the eye. 

And Danny did. 

“I’m afraid of this,” Danny finally said. 

“Of me? Or of what I’ll do to you?” 

“Both. Neither.” 

Ah. So he was conflicted. He was scared shitless Steve wasn’t the right Master, yet wanted Steve to _be_ his Master with everything that he was. 

“I will only cause pain to force you to release what’s hurting you, Daniel.” 

Danny’s eyes, which had wandered away, now snapped back and looked directly into Steve’s. “How did you know?” 

Steve nodded down to Danny’s thighs. “I doubt those bruises came from rough sex.” 

Swallowing, looking away, ashamed, Danny shook his head. “No, sir.” 

“But it’s not enough anymore, is it?” 

“Nothing’s been enough since Rachel—” Danny’s voice ended in a sob. 

Steve pushed him gently back down onto the bed. “You are going to get her out of your mind and out of your system.” 

“I _can’t_!” Danny half-whispered through his tears. 

“You _will_ , Daniel, and it will be at _my_ hand. I will not invest my time and my effort in a sub who wants someone _else_ , do you _understand_ me?” With that question, Steve reached out, grabbed hold of Danny’s left nipple and squeezed it _hard_ , pulling, twisting. 

Danny cried out, back arching, and fell back onto the mattress as soon as Steve let go. And the moan that escaped Danny’s lips next told Steve he definitely had to gag him while Grace was in the house. 

“That’s right. Now, if you want this, if you want _me_ , Daniel, you have to belong to me completely. Otherwise, it’s over. Do you understand?” 

He watched Danny rub the palm of his hand over the nipple Steve had molested. Danny’s jaw dropped. His eyes closed. He seemed _relieved_. 

“You will call me sir or Steven.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Do you want to become mine? Do you want me to train you? To help you?” 

“Yes, Steven, _please_.” 

That the plea in Danny’s eyes matched his tone of voice was almost Steve’s undoing. He wanted this, as much as Danny did. For him, it was about helping someone he loved. It was about being in control. It was about making the best decisions for everyone. 

And it was about making his partner someone who could function the way he was meant to, because Steve would be taking care of him whenever he needed it. 

“Do you want to begin tonight?” Steve asked. 

Danny looked uncertain. “Grace.” 

“I have that taken care of,” Steve assured him. “I always have everything under control where you’re concerned. Do you believe that? Do you trust me with everything, Daniel?” 

Danny looked directly into Steve’s eyes. “I always have,” he said, voice breaking. 

Steve pulled his partner into a sitting position again so he could wrap his arms around Danny completely. “Get out what you need to get out to ease the pressure,” Steve murmured into his ear, “and then we’ll begin.” 

Danny wept quietly as he clung to Steve like his very life depended on it. 

Steve somehow thought it just might. 


	3. Succumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve starts the journey toward owning Danny in every way...by forcing him to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, okay, so from now on I am never again promising how many chapters something's going to be because THEY are writing this shit, not me, and THEY are in control of it so...there you have it. This ain't the end yet. *facepalm*

Danny still felt like his heart was beating way too fast, but as he finally came to understand, through feeling Steve’s arms around him, through feeling that Steve was _there_ for him, that somehow in _some way_ Steve _got_ it…well, he knew he wanted nothing more than to become Steve’s now, here, _now_ , as fast as possible, in every way. 

He trembled as he pulled away. Steve let him drift back down to the mattress, ran a hand through Danny’s hair again and _Bliss!_ It felt so damn good, so damn _good_ to be petted that way. Then suddenly Steve’s fingers curled against his scalp and before Danny knew what was happening, Steve was gripping him painfully by the hair. 

That felt even _better_ than being petted. 

Danny gasped, moaned, felt his erection go from half-mast where it’d fallen to as he’d been losing his shit on Steve’s shoulder to rock-hard in an instant, as Steve used his hair to lift his head back up. 

“Look at me, Daniel.” Firm. Unyielding. _Commander_. 

Danny looked him in the eyes. 

“From this point forward you will not look into my eyes for the rest of tonight. You will be as quiet as you can possibly be, but I still want to hear how it feels. You will do everything I tell you and if you disobey me _once_ , I will leave you alone for the remainder of the night. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, sir,” Danny whispered, and quickly averted his eyes. 

Steve released his hair, Danny’s head falling back onto the pillow. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” Steve said. 

Danny’s blood was _singing_ through his veins. Now his heart was beating faster for a whole different reason. He was going to do everything right, _every_ thing. He was going to see to it Steve would never want another sub _ever again_ , for the rest of his life. 

* * *

Steve stopped at his bedroom door, quietly opened it and peeked inside. Grace was asleep; however, Steve had wrapped an old robe around himself just in case she wasn’t. He crept inside to his closet, reached up and pulled down an old hat box, and left the room again, closing the door behind him. 

In this box were many things he’d used, or had wanted to use here in Hawaii, but had never found anyone to share them with…until now. His heart was beating faster. He had an opportunity here to make Danny truly, completely _his_. And he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. He _loved_ Danny, loved every _part_ of him, and would see to it that somehow, Danny learned to love himself – and Steve – just as much. 

He quickly went downstairs to the laundry room cabinet where he stored all manner of things useful around a house or on the job. There, the twenty feet of yellow nylon rope. That would do. Rope in one hand, box in the other, he made his way back up the steps. First he stopped to listen at his bedroom door, but he heard no sounds coming from inside, assuring him Grace was asleep. There was just one more thing he needed, but that thing would be coming from Danny’s body. So he moved down the hall to the room he was now referring to in his mind as Danny’s Chamber – because once Grace was gone, Steve was seriously redoing it in _spades_ for his and Danny’s pleasure – and he opened the door and went inside. 

Danny hadn’t moved a _muscle_. Damn, he wanted this _so_ bad. For the man Steve had known all this time to obey him to the _letter_ was something Steve had never thought he’d see. 

Yet here he was, sub daniel with lowercase letters and all, just waiting for Steve to do as he pleased. 

Steve couldn’t help the feral grin that covered his face as he let his robe fall the floor, and closed and locked the door. 

He placed the box down on the small desk to his right, put the rope on top of it, and moved to the bed. Quickly and efficiently, he pulled the white boxers off Danny’s hips, down his thighs and completely away. He pulled at the crotch of them until all but the elastic waistband had ripped in half, then balled the fabric up, folded the two ends together so it made one decently-sized ball-shaped gag, and swiftly placed it over Danny’s mouth, using the two ends of doubled-up elastic to tie it behind his head…which Danny lifted for him without being asked. 

As soon as the makeshift gag was in place – Steve would get a proper one later – and Danny’s head was back down on the pillow, Steve slapped his cheek hard enough to make his own palm sting from it. 

“You don’t move unless I tell you to,” Steve admonished. “No anticipating what I want. You have no _idea_ what I want.” 

Danny’s muffled “Yes, sir,” was easy enough to understand, but the wide, bright blue eyes were even _easier_ to understand. Danny’s pupils nearly filled his irises, and his cock was already weeping pre-cum in copious amounts. 

Next, Steve grabbed the nylon rope off the desk. Danny’s head didn’t move. He just closed his eyes and Steve thought to himself _Yes, I’ll blindfold him, too. Teach him to trust me completely in all things…he’ll only be able to feel when I want him to; never to anticipate._

And so Steve chucked the rope at the foot of the bed, pulled open the top drawer of his childhood dresser and rifled around in it until he found what he was looking for: an old, faded bandana from Kukui High. He closed the drawer, folded the bandana just-so and without a word, covered Danny’s eyes. 

This time Danny didn’t lift his head. 

“You’re a fast learner, Daniel. Lift your head. Do not speak unless I’m doing something you’re not ready to take. Then you call out my name. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,sir,” was the garbled response around the boxers partially shoved inside Danny’s mouth. 

Steve quickly tied the bandana off behind Danny’s head, gave him a quick pet as a reward, then said, “Put your head back down on the pillow.” 

Danny complied. 

Steve uncoiled the nylon rope, doubled it precisely in half, opened the hat box and pulled out his Seal Pup knife with the tiger stripe blade. Measuring precisely 4.85 inches, it had been Steve’s favorite tool-slash-weapon in his SEAL days, and was sharp enough to split a single human hair in half. 

Now, though, he simply used it to cut the rope, then he sheathed the knife and put it back in the box. First he tied one length of rope to Danny’s right ankle with a simple clove hitch knot, then he pulled it down, looped it around the leg on that side at the bottom of the bed…pulled it across to the right foot and looped it around, and then ended by tying Danny’s right ankle. He tested the bonds. They would hold Danny if he struggled, but Steve could easily remove should Grace awaken. 

Next, he took the second length of rope and tied Danny’s right wrist, same simple clove hitch, looped it up through the slatted headboard, around the back of the headboard, back through again and finally tied off Danny’s left wrist. There. Now Danny was immobile, blind and gagged. 

Time to get down to business. 

“First,” he said, moving back to the box, watching how Danny’s whole body seemed to be pulled toward the sound of his voice with _great_ satisfaction, “I will make you let go, Daniel.” 

Danny whined, an anticipatory sound, Steve thought, and he smiled. He pulled a white half-burned taper candle out of the box, then a box of wooden matches. He struck a match, letting the sulfur waft into his nose, and lit the candle’s wick. He shook the match out and stood there quietly watching the flame while the wax began to melt. 

He didn’t know what Danny’s limits were, but so far being tied, bound and gagged hadn’t made him panic, so now Steve had to start with forcing Danny to release Rachel once and for all. To give him the out he’d needed so badly but hadn’t been able to get from anyone once she’d dropped him. Steve didn’t know if Rachel had given Danny anything more from the Dom/sub side of things in their last get-together, or if it’d just been vanilla sex all the way, but either way, Danny needed to get her completely out of his mind and heart, or he’d never be able to surrender totally to Steve. 

And Steve wasn’t going to accept _anything_ but total surrender. 

* * *

Danny had, impossibly, grown harder and harder as Steve had blindfolded him, then tied his ankles, then his wrists. It felt so _good_ to be completely helpless at the hands of this man who, as he had admitted, he’d always trusted. Always. 

Even Rachel hadn’t been much into tying him down, most especially after Grace’s birth, when she’d been too tired to do anything other than take care of that precious little girl. Danny’s eyes teared up beneath the blindfold as he remembered how he’d yearned to touch the tiny life he’d helped create, the one beautiful, perfect, unmarred thing that had ever come from his being, his bruised and fucked-up body and mind. 

How he’d wished he could be the one feeding her, but only Rachel could for those first three months. Then, once Grace had been weaned from breast to bottle, Danny had been overjoyed to be the one giving her nourishment. He was a born caretaker, and yet in the most fundamental way, _he_ was the one who needed taking care of almost as much as the newborn baby. 

Yet it hadn’t been there for him, and so he’d latched onto Grace as his way of trying to change, of trying to rid himself of that dark sludge always roiling around beneath the surface of his outward appearance. Sometimes getting hurt on the job helped, whether it was a scraped-up arm courtesy of a fall in an alley, or a black eye and a split lip thanks to a perp who thought it was fun to beat up a short cop, it all had helped. He’d explained to his peers that he simply healed slower than most when that split lip had stayed around much longer than it should’ve. 

And he’d drowned himself in the love and trust of his beautiful baby girl. Things that, of late, with her absent so much from his life, he’d begun to forget. He felt the tears leak out of his eyes as it all came flooding back to him, and promised himself that he would find that happy place with her again, no matter how old she was now, no matter that she’d seen a glimpse of his messed up brain earlier tonight. He’d start tomorrow. 

And then he heard a match being struck. 

Smelled sulfur faintly wafting through the air. 

His muscles tensed. He hoped Steve wasn’t going to light a cigarette next, or try to burn him in some other way because he had tried that and—oh, _oh_ , “ _Oh!_ ” he cried out through the boxer gag. 

Wax. It had to be wax, oh, _fuck_ how it burned, oh _fuck_ how _amazing_ it felt and he groaned at the first little dribbles to his left thigh. His cock twitched as suddenly more of the searing, burning heat hit his right thigh and oh, _God_ , he’d never tried this on himself, it _stung_ , it _lingered_ , it cooled, puckering the skin beneath it as it hardened, and then Steve was dripping it onto his right knee, down his shin, along the tops of first his right foot, then his left. Up his left shin, his left knee, and then it stopped. 

His ears strained, wondering what was next, and then like a bolt of electricity he felt the hot sting of the burn on his right hip, then his left, puddles and puddles of the wax, way more now and his hips arched off the bed as he gasped, whimpered, made sounds he couldn’t even name, eyes squeezing shut beneath the blindfold. 

And then it stopped. 

Silence. 

When the wax hit his right nipple he cried out, muffled greatly by the gag, but kind of loud anyway, back arching, then pressing down into the mattress trying to get away from it, trying to get away, it _hurt_ , oh fuck, oh _fuck_ but felt so good but hurt so much and then another huge glob of it on his left nipple and he felt tears streaming out of his eyes, head whipping back and forth to crawl away and yet part of him wanted to succumb but no, yes, he couldn’t, he wanted to, he didn’t know what to _do_ , legs pulling at the ropes binding his ankles, biceps and triceps _straining_ against the ropes on his wrists and then the wax was on his right shoulder, hot, dribbled, teasing and he melted into the feel of it as the wax on his nipples cooled. 

Dribble down his right arm. Dribble all along his left, and it didn’t so much hurt anymore as felt like an old friend who welcomed him into his torturous embrace and he moaned when he heard the puff of breath that told him Steve had blown the candle out. There would be no more hot wax, so now what, what, and then Steve began to peel it from his legs, rip it away, undoubtedly taking some of his hairs with it and he yelped, moaned, yelped, moaned, a neverending cycle of pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure, spiking straight along his spine to his brain, releasing endorphins that forced his cock to twitch and twitch like it was reaching for Steve as much as Danny wished _he_ could right now. 

With every strip he pulled from Danny’s skin, Steve rubbed his thumb _hard_ over the area, pain prickling, feeding Danny’s need to _feel_ , to _know_ who was doing this to him, he whined, he wanted to hear The Voice, so, so badly, more _strip_ , _rub_ , _whine_ , _moan_ over and over and over and over. 

When he ripped the wax from Danny’s right nipple, Danny _howled_ around the gag, chest arcing up off the bed, only to have the wax ripped from his left nipple before he’d even come off the second one, faster and faster the wax was removed now, all the way up one arm, all the way down the other. Danny was sweating, screaming, babbling senselessly, feeling himself finally starting to work, starting to put it all together like a mantra in his mind of _Steve_ and _Master_ and _love_ and _yours_ and he wanted to scream the word at the top of his lungs, wanted this man to take him in every way possible, to own him, use him, keep hurting him to love him, fulfill his desperate need for this, this very thing he was getting right now, against all odds. 

And then Steve licked the head of his cock. Danny’s hips bucked upwards but Steve had already backed away. 

“So fucking beautiful,” Steve said, voice husky with a desire no blindfold could hide Danny from seeing. 

Steve wanted this. 

Steve wanted _him_. 

“I love you, Daniel,” were the next words from The Voice and Danny stopped struggling. 

He whimpered. 

“I’ll never stop loving you.” 

Suddenly the boxer gag was pulled down to hang around Danny’s neck and Steve’s lips smashed into his, a bruising kiss that hurt as much as it felt good, and Steve’s tongue thrust into Danny’s mouth. Danny welcomed it, opened his mouth wide, let Steve taste him for the first time, feel along his teeth, his tongue, every nook and cranny of his mouth and then, then Danny took a chance, and kissed him back. His lips moved against Steve’s, his tongue tapped playfully on Steve’s tongue and Steve groaned into him, hands grabbing both sides of Danny’s face as he deepened the kiss. Danny knew both pairs of lips would still be bruised tomorrow, that he’d feel this kiss all fucking day and he moaned, whimpered, whined some more, his sounds of choice, sounds he made without thinking, without trying to, and why, _why_ hadn’t he done this earlier, _why_ hadn’t he showed Steve his need for his own special mastery of Danny before? 

Just as quickly as the kiss had started, it was over as Steve jerked away. “Mine,” Steve growled. “ _Mine_.” 

* * *

Steve had never been so turned on in his _life._

Always before, in those sex clubs in foreign countries, he’d gotten off on learning how to dominate others in a more open, more sexual setting than the Navy afforded. Yet this, this was altogether different. Sure, he’d known that he loved Danny, already had felt like he owned him, but _this_ …he could _feel_ the beginnings of his partner’s capitulation to Steve as the one and only Master, the one and only person alive who would own Danny’s heart and soul. 

And Steve found himself capitulating in his own way. Because as much as he craved owning and controlling Danny, as much as he was desperate to free Danny from a lifetime of being unfulfilled, _Steve_ was the one being bought and paid for here, with every sound from Danny’s mouth, with every jerk of his hips, with every drop of pre-cum that leaked from his thick, hard cock. 

Steve was becoming Danny’s as much as Danny was becoming his. 

And now Steve was going to show Danny something else he could offer that Rachel couldn’t. 

Him _self_. 

He moved quickly to the hat box, rifled around its contents, and found what he was looking for: two silver nipple clamps joined by a chain. They were heavy, and strong, meant to pinch like hell and hang on tight when pulled. 

He felt as much as Danny had responded to the wax, this combined with the other thing Steve had in mind, would make his partner…his sub…putty in his hands. 

Swiftly he returned to the bed, where Danny was already a quivering mass of flesh, keening noises, noises Steve had never heard before, coming from his throat. His lips were swollen, bruised, beautiful, and Steve reached down with one clamp, opened it and attached it to Danny’s stiff, already-sore right nipple. Danny hissed air through his teeth, and Steve did the same to his left nipple. Then he lifted the chain and gave it an experimental tug. 

Danny was still obeying, because even as his hips jerked of their own accord in no kind of rhythm, even as pre-cum kept spurting from the end of his cock, even as his arms strained at their bindings and his mouth fell open in a large O, Danny made no loud sounds, said no words, only continued to whine in a high-pitched way that made Steve’s blood _roar_ through his veins. Danny was so _needy_ , _fuck_ , so _beautiful_. 

He tugged on the chain again. Danny’s head began moving side to side, he pulled some more, Danny squeaked, unable to even formulate a proper sound. And then Steve held the chain taut, pulling at Danny’s nipples and the man began to shake on the bed, shake and shake, so hard, sweat gathering and pooling in the nooks and crannies of his body. 

Steve moved lower alongside the bed, down toward Danny’s hips until he was parallel to them, still holding the chain taut, and Danny kept trembling, started to pant. “Don’t come,” was Steve’s order, though he himself would be hard-pressed not to for this. 

In one movement, he deep-throated Danny’s cock. 

It took everything Danny had not to cry out, Steve could tell by the strangled sounds his sub was making, and Danny’s cock twitched a dance inside his mouth, down his throat. He felt pre-cum leaking, _leaking_ and pulled the chain tighter as he moved back along his partner’s shaft, sucking so hard, hard as he could, all the way up and off and fuck, Steve couldn’t take it anymore because Danny was _gone_. 

He dropped the nipple chain, went back to the box, and pulled out the anal lube that would make instant penetration nearly painless because for this he couldn’t go slow; no matter how good a sub Danny wanted to be, no matter how in control of the situation Steve was, he couldn’t _wait_ anymore, he wanted to claim Danny _now_ , fuck, just _now_. 

A condom. 

The lube. 

Danny’s angry red cock jutting into the air searching for the touch that would allow it to come. 

Steve knew his partner was ready. 

It was time. 


	4. Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve truly makes Danny his.

Danny’s focus was solely on the feel of where he thought Steve was. On the sounds Steve made, however soft they were. His skin was tingling, he couldn’t stop shaking, he knew, he _knew_ , he knew this was the end of the quest that seemed to have been neverending, and yet still there was the question, the doubt…had he performed as Steve expected? Would The Voice, when next he heard it, be full of admiration, of love, of desire? Or would it be disappointed, would its owner have come to realize that Danny was _too_ broken, just wasn’t good enough to be the sub of a Navy SEAL, of a man who ran a task force for an entire state, of— 

“Daniel.” The Voice was low. It slipped into Danny’s ears like velvet skating over smooth, sleek glass. “You will answer me.” A moment of silence. Of no movement. Of no sound. “Have you ever been with another man?” 

The answer to Danny’s prayers, every hope, every dream in that question, he sobbed, the sound bursting out of him even as he tried to hold it back. “N-no, sir,” he managed to choke out, trying to swallow the cry of joy that vibrated in his chest just begging to be let loose. 

No response from The Voice. Danny forced his body as still as he could, though he still trembled. 

Whatever was binding his ankles was being untied. His breathing sped up. His heartbeat skyrocketed. _Yes yes yes please God yes!_

The sound of the the bindings, rope if he wasn’t mistaken, slipping off his skin, falling to the floor. Left ankle. Right ankle. His legs were free. Gun-calloused hands rubbing into the marks the rope had left behind. Danny hissed, muscles tensing, at the pain of ridges and whorls scraping raw flesh. 

His ankles were slowly being pushed back toward his body, forcing Danny’s knees to bend. Further and further up until his heels touched the backs of his thighs at their juncture with his ass. Breathing almost stopped happening, he gulped, stuttering on it, exhaling in pants, he couldn’t control it, the anticipation, the desire, he’d never done this with a man, not the submission, never sex, never so much as a hand job, nothing and now it was Steve, Steve who would take his virginity, who was staking his claim and Danny wanted to sing, to weep, to wrap his arms around his Master but he couldn’t, he didn’t, too many sensations and then he spasmed when something wet and slick touched his anus, gasped as a finger entered him, as the finger kept moving, kept spreading more, it had to be lube, shoving it into his hole. 

His hips bucked, he writhed, and one hand grabbed his left hip so tight, _so_ tight, Danny’s cock jerked, he moaned, he could hear other sounds, knew he had to be making them as Steve held his hips down hard to the bed, other hand working Danny’s hole open wider, wider, so easy, smooth, slick, unbelievable, more fingers in now, pressing in and then suddenly pumping, pumping, move fast and hard and farther, all the way to the knuckles and then the most exquisite pain he had ever known as something deep within his body exploded. 

Over and over again, every time Steve’s fingers moved, and he knew on some logical level Steve was hitting his prostate but couldn’t get past the desire to get away as fast as he could yet beg him to keep doing it, hurt so good, so fucking _good_ and _more_ and _don’t stop_. 

He tried to thrust, desperate for friction on his cock, _so_ painfully hard, jolts shooting up from his now-wet channel to his balls, to his brain, all over his body like he was being electrocuted and he clamped his mouth shut, screaming behind his own lips, head thrashing, everything moving, arms yanking at the rope binding his wrists, Jesus _fuck_ he wanted it to stop, to end, he needed to _come_ , he wanted it to _never_ end, for Steve to keep him this way, splayed open, at his mercy forever, forever. 

And then the fingers disappeared and Danny’s world spun out of control, colors bursting behind closed eyelids beneath the blindfold, fingers stretching, balling themselves back up into fists, pelvis shooting up, looking for something to fuck into as soon as Steve released his hip. 

The sound of something tearing. “Yes,” Danny breathed, unable to stop it from escaping his lips, praying he hadn’t just ruined his chances, adding, “yes, sir,” just to try and make up for his error in speaking. 

“Do you want me?” Steve asked. 

“Fuck, yes, yes, Steven, God, _please_ , yes!” he babbled, couldn’t keep it inside anymore. 

“Tell me what you want, Daniel. _Tell_ me!” 

“I want…I want to be _yours_!” Danny whimpered, still fighting to keep his volume low. “Please, sir, please fuck me, I _need_ you, _please_.” 

Seconds of silence. 

And then the foot of the bed dipped. Hands moved to the backs of Danny’s knees. His legs were lifted and came to rest on Steve’s shoulders. 

“I’m going to fuck you until you don’t know your own goddamn name,” Steve growled. 

And without any further warning, Steve’s cock slammed all the way into Danny’s body. 

* * *

It was all Steve could do not to come right then and there, surrounded by Danny, whose clenching muscles made him just want to let go without even moving. Though he’d made sure Danny was ready and wouldn’t be hurt, using the relaxing lube, Danny’s ass was so fucking tight it was almost _painful_ surrounding Steve’s erection. 

He had to stop, had to breathe in, even as sweat formed at his hairline and began trickling down his neck. Slowly, slowly he pulled back, Danny’s garbled expletives, the quiet, high-pitched continuous cry he kept mostly in with his lips pursed tightly together, his hands clenching and unclenching, helplessly held by the ropes that had cut so far into Danny’s skin that Steve could see blood, all combined to make Steve feel like there was never any way he could _ever_ be truly in control where Danny was involved. 

Danny was making him _lose_ it. 

And the thing was, Steve _wanted_ to get lost. 

He pulled out all the way, then jammed back in, one smooth movement, balls slapping Danny’s ass. Danny’s hips were elevated off the bed, held aloft by his knees and Steve turned his face to the right, kissing the side of that knee, then to the left, kissing the side of that one. He leaned forward, nearly folding Danny completely in half, his ass pointed up so high that Steve had to stretch himself out, knees resting at the edge of the foot of the bed, to get the right angle. 

Steve bent down, licked a stripe up Danny’s breastbone, Danny’s back arching off the bed into the touch, until Steve’s mouth reached the chain connecting the two nipple clamps. He picked it up with his teeth, Danny’s panting became grunts, groans, as Steve moved back and the chain became taut, then he pulled even _harder_. He withdrew from his partner’s ass, then shot right back in. Pulled out, slammed back in. 

Within seconds he was pistoning into Danny’s body like he wanted to break the bed, break every bone in Danny’s pelvis, slamming so hard as Danny’s words blended into one another, mixing and churning in a stew of pleasure, pitched high and then low and then whispered as his voice gave out, barely-there screams and the hard grip of his legs on Steve’s shoulders driving Steve _wild_ with need. 

He pulled the nipple chain even _harder_ and pre-cum spurted so violently from Danny’s cock that it hit the bottom of Steve’s chin. He growled, released the chain, kept pounding and pounding and pounding to the sounds of Danny’s whispering so fiercely, “Please! Please, sir!” 

“Say it,” Steve snarled at him. “ _Say_ it!” 

“Please…Stev-en…come…please…let me come, let—fuck fuck _please_ let me _come_!” 

The sound of Danny begging, of him so raw, laid so bare, and Steve knew he’d won, he’d beaten Rachel, and he pounded three more times into Danny’s ass for emphasis before barking, “Come _now_!” as his own orgasm hit. 

It felt like fire racing through his body from his toes to the top of his scalp, everywhere _burning_ as he filled the condom embedded in his partner’s tight, convulsing ass. Without being touched, Danny’s cock was shooting ribbons of white so far that globs of semen were landing on his _forehead_ and Steve felt a rumbling growl deep in his chest as he half-collapsed down to his elbows, even as Danny’s cock continued to jerk, legs falling down Steve’s arms to land on the bed with a thump. 

Steve licked at every bit of come he could reach, up and down Danny’s chest, his neck, his chin, up and up until he captured Danny’s lips with his own, both panting so hard they couldn’t kiss, but could only inhale each other’s air. 

Danny’s cock finally stopped moving. 

Steve felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, a vacuum suddenly surrounding them and then all at once Time began to move again when Danny whimpered, lips moving beneath Steve’s, as he tried weakly to kiss him. 

Steve pressed into those lips with his own, holding still while Danny’s tongue roamed all over his own, capturing his own taste in Steve’s mouth. 

And then Steve’s arms gave out and he landed on Danny’s body heavily, his cock slipping partially out of Danny’s ass. “Mine,” Steve panted, turning his face to bite just above Danny’s left nipple. He kept increasing the pressure until Danny moaned beneath him, then pulled away to find a beautiful, perfect set of teethmarks nestled in among the dark hair on Danny’s chest. 

When at last Steve forced himself off his partner, and pulled all the way out of him, he felt more spent…and more sated…than he ever had in his entire life. Nothing in his experiences with men and women had left him feeling full to overflowing. Only Danny. 

Only Danny. 

And Danny was _his_. 

* * *

Danny wasn’t entirely certain what plane he was drifting on, but it sure didn’t feel like the same one where, mere hours ago, he felt like he didn’t give a fuck about anything anymore. 

All he knew was that it felt like he was dreaming, and yet certain parts of his body ached and hurt enough that he knew he wasn’t. 

The smell of sex assaulted his nose and suddenly he snapped back to the Here and Now, acutely aware that Steve…Steven J. McGarrett, his boss, his partner and his best friend…had just conquered him completely. 

There were no more thoughts of Rachel. 

There were no more thoughts of hating his life, hating his world, hating himself. 

All he knew was peace. For once, the voice inside his head that raged at him _continuously_ was silent. 

There were sounds: a door being unlocked and then opening. Running water. Movement. A warmth covered his stomach and he knew Steve was cleaning him as the wet washcloth moved slowly up his chest, then his neck, over his face, up to his forehead. 

Danny felt his hips tilted up by Steve’s hand at the back of his ass, and then the warm, wet washcloth gently wiped away excess lube, the sensation of his abused hole being touched at all making Danny moan. 

The cloth disappeared, Steve’s hand moved out from under his ass. Then the cleansing warmth was back, this time on Danny’s ankles, wiping gently all around them. He sighed, a sigh that seemed to come from the deepest part of him, at the tenderness of the touch. 

Steve was cleaning him. Taking care of him. Showing with touch that underneath everything that had happened, every bit of what Danny had needed that had brought him to this place of bliss, there was nothing but love for Danny in every mark left on his body. 

Something a little cool, gel-like, was rubbed around his ankles where the rope burns were. Danny drifted lazily in and out of being zoned, resisting the urge to purr like an oversized housecat. 

Next the ropes on his wrists were untied, and the swishing sounds that came after told him Steve was putting the rope away, folding it or coiling it. His hands and arms and shoulders hurt, ached, pins and needles, but once more Steve was there. First he gently washed Danny’s right wrist, and then his left. 

Next came the gel, probably an antibiotic cream, Danny guessed, and throughout the ministrations Steve was silent. 

Once his wrists were tended to, Steve whispered, “Lift your head,” so Danny complied. The blindfold was untied from the back of his head and pulled gently away. Danny kept his eyes closed; he hadn’t been told he could open them yet. 

“Look at me, Daniel.” The Voice was quiet. Close. 

Slowly he blinked his eyelids open. Steve’s own eyes were so close; their noses were almost touching. Danny blinked some more as his eyes adjusted from pitch black to only a step up from that in the darkness of the room. 

Steve leaned forward, placed a gentle kiss to his lips, pulled away and whispered, “Mine, Daniel. You are _mine_ , now. Mine, _always_.” 

Danny swallowed hard. “Yours, Steven,” he replied, then licked his lips. “Always.” 

He could just barely make out Steve smiling down at him, then Steve was moving again, tidying up, putting some kind of box on the top shelf of his closet. He took something else out of the closet and Danny realized it was a thin bedsheet, a dark-colored one, though he couldn’t tell precisely what color it was. 

Steve moved to the opposite side of the bed, which was butted up against the wall, by climbing over Danny. He laid on his left side, using his right hand to spread the sheet over their bodies from waist to feet and beyond. Then he pushed and pulled at Danny until Danny found himself ensconced in his Master’s embrace. Steve’s arms held him tightly, Danny’s back pressed firmly into his chest. Steve tangled their legs together and rested his chin on the top of Danny’s head. 

“I love you, Daniel,” Steve whispered, squeezing Danny in his arms once for emphasis. 

Danny swallowed. “I love you…Master,” he whispered back. 

No sound then except their breathing slowing, evening out. 

“Sleep,” Steve ordered. 

And Danny obeyed. 

Home. 

Owned. 

_Loved_ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for the comments and kudos. I really do appreciate them all, and I'm glad you enjoyed the story! It really and truly is the last chapter, now. *looks suspiciously at hot, sweaty, sleepy partners, not willing to put anything past them at this point*


End file.
